Eavesdropping
by Sagan Fox
Summary: Comfort, unknowingly given, can often be the most effective of all. Meryl's POV, slight spoilers. V/M. Damn I suck at summaries...


      AN:  Hi fanfic fans!  This little number is the result of a serious case of writer's block concerning my main Cowboy Bebop fanfic, "Damn It Ed!", as well as a lack of progress on a series of other fanfics my brain's been tossing around.  It's pure, unadulterated fluff from Meryl's POV.  This is also my very first Trigun fic, so be kind.  Keep in mind that I've only seen about half of the series so far.  Many thanks to my beta-readers Discordia the Goddess of Irony (read her fanfic on fanfiction.net under that name!), my wonderful fellow grammar Nazi, and EarFestishGirl, who helped me keep it as closely in character as I could.  Oh, I don't own Trigun.  If I did, neither Wolfwood nor Vash would ever be allowed to wear shirts.  Ever.  ^_-  

      Read, enjoy, and please review!  Any flames will be met with an author clad only in fire brandishing a katana with murderous intent.  And that really isn't a pretty sight folks.  On with the show!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wake in a start to the sound of a loud voice in the room next door.  My first thought is that Vash is up to something _again_.  I swear, that man gathers more trouble than the rest of the world combined.  The absence of loud crashing and explosions rules out _that explanation.  I hear a muffled series of sounds as I strain for a clue as to what woke me up out of a dead sleep.  It seems a lot like...crying?_

      Is Vash crying?

      I get up out of bed, and the cold air stings my bare legs under my nightshirt.  I press my ear up against the wall between our rooms.  What sound like sobs are intermingled with muffled cries.  His voice sounds so plaintive and wounded.  Like an injury that never stopped bleeding and never will. 

      If you'd asked me three months ago if I thought Vash the Stampede, the Humanoid Typhoon EVER cried, I'd have laughed.  But now...I'd have to say he cries regularly.  With all that happens to him, I'd need a good cry too.  People hate him, and it usually isn't even his fault!  If they could only see the Vash I've seen.  The man who would rather take a thousand bullets than watch another die, who would go out of his way to save his greatest enemy.  The man who is strong enough to lift fallen sections of concrete walls, but gentle enough to let children pin him to the ground.  The man whose smile can make it seem as if all is right with the universe.  They don't care enough to understand, or even see the pains he puts himself through just to save them, or the way his eyes can express such deep sadness and guilt.  

      It just isn't fair, goddamnit!

      I'm getting carried away with myself.  It sounds like he's in the middle of a nightmare.  He HAS been acting strangely since the incident with Monev a few days ago.  I want so much to go to him, but I find myself frozen to the spot.  What would Milly say if she caught me?  Or even worse, what if Vash saw me?  What if he wakes up and thinks I'm sentimental or weak or foolish.  What if I'm wrong about the whole situation?  What happened to the Meryl who thought he was a stupid lecherous klutz of a criminal who can bring nothing but disaster?

      *She fell in love with him*

      Silence, brain!  I am not in love with him!  He is my assignment, my job, not my boyfriend!  How could I love that broom-headed idiot?  

      I instantly feel guilty for those words.  His cries are heart-wrenching.  

How did I end up in the hallway outside his door?  Damn my feet for disobeying my brain.  I crack the door and pause.  What am I doing?  This is silly, Meryl, go back to bed.  He's fine, it's just a nightmare.

"Legato!  Damn you!  Stop this...stop...Don't hurt them!"

I can hear what he's saying now.  I push the door open wider once I'm sure he actually _is_ asleep.  His long limbs thrash under the blankets that he's managed to tangle around himself.  Beads of sweat dot his face, contorted with anger and desperation.  Tears run freely down his cheeks.

"Stop...Rem, Rem what do I do?  Help me, Rem!  No, don't leave!  REM!"

Now I'm standing next to his bed.  Even in sleep he finds no peace.  I want more than anything to give him that.  No one deserves this kind of mental and emotional torture.  An anguished scream shocks me, and I take a step back.

"NO!  Why?  Please...not her too!  Damn you!"

He begins to sob even more.  Vash, what's going on in that spiky head of yours?  Now I'm kneeling next to his bedside.  I take one of his hands in mine, and with the other I wipe his sweaty brow.  

"Vash, it's alright.  It's not real, it's just a nightmare," I whisper, but his thrashing continues.  I move to sit by his side on the bed, and squeeze his hand.  I shift the other from his brow to his chest, rubbing in slow, lazy circles.  Even beneath the fabric of his shirt I can feel his defined musculature.  I can only imagine what it would be like to be wrapped in his long, lanky arms, pressed against his strong, firm chest.  

Whoa.  Time to stop thinking like that right now.  Those kinds of thoughts never get me anywhere constructive.  I continue rubbing in slow, lazy circles, like my mother used to do to my back when I had nightmares as a little girl, and whisper, "You're fine, Vash, It's just a dream.  It isn't really happening.  It can't hurt you, I won't let it."

He calms slightly and stops thrashing his limbs, though his breathing is still erratic and panicked.  This shows that whatever horrible scene was playing out in his head still continues.  I caress his cheek, another gesture learned from my mother.  His skin is smooth and soft, accentuating his strong jaw line.

"I'm here; I won't let them hurt you."

I find myself humming an old song, one I knew in childhood but now remains only a ghost in my mind.  I can't recall any of the lyrics, just the slow, lilting tune.  This seems to sate him, and soon he is quiet, though tears still run down his cheeks.  I ruffle his blonde hair, finding it to be surprisingly soft and silky for a man who lives the way Vash does.  It had fallen from the usual spikes during the nightmare, and hangs in his face.  His face looks so much like that of a little boy, a small smile now playing across his lips.  I guess his terrors have passed for now.  

Every sensible, pragmatic cell in my body tells me to leave, but for some reason I can't bring myself to get up.  He looks so peaceful now.  Did I really give him that peace?  My face unconsciously falls closer to his, and an inexplicable urge to kiss him rises in me.  I run a hand lightly through his hair.  Please God, don't let him wake up now.  I am now but a few inches from his face when I am suddenly able to pull away.  This IS foolish.  I let go of his hand and get up.  A few steps later and I'm at the door.  I turn to gaze at him one more time, and once again fight the urge to go to him.  No, this is wrong.  He's just Vash, just my assignment.  It's not like I'm in love with him, right?  I return to my room and my bed, careful not to wake up Milly.  Re-covering myself with the warm blankets, I close my eyes and drop back into sleep.  

...............

Morning.  AGH!  LATE!  The bus leaves in half an hour!  I jump out of bed and dress, then pack in a frenzy of clothes and paper.  It is only when I make my way downstairs to the lobby that I remember last night.

Please God let that man have no clue, not even a slight inkling about what I did.  I wouldn't be able to look him in the eye.  He'd think I'd gone soft or something.  Just another weak-willed emotional woman fallen to his charms.  Or lack thereof.  

I reach the lobby to see Milly waiting by the door.  Vash is just staring contemplatively out a nearby window.  A few weeks ago _that _came as another shocker: Vash the Stampede is deeply introspective.  

Milly rushes up to me, luggage in tow.  "Sempai!  I was wondering when you'd wake up!  The bus leaves in just a few minutes!"

"Milly, why on earth didn't you wake me up?" I respond.  Sometimes I wonder about my partner.  

"I went with Mr. Vash to get donuts.  We'd have saved you some, but Mr. Vash ate them all before we even got back!"  She turns away and walks out of the hotel lobby to the bus waiting outside.  I grip the handle of my own suitcase and take a step to follow her.  Before I know it, strong hands take hold of my arms and gently spin me before I can resist.  Vash's strong arms twine themselves around me, holding me to his broad chest.  I unknowingly wrap my own arms around his waist, pulling him even closer to me.  This feels right.  I don't know why it's happening, and to be quite honest I don't really care, but it still feels right.  I can feel his warm breath on the crown of my head as he bends down and lightly kisses it.  This can't be happening.  Why is he...Omigod!  He knows!  I must be as red as his coat right now!  But, damn, this feels too good to move right now.  For some reason I don't really care that he knows about my late-night visitation right now.  I did the right thing, didn't I?  He smells like gunpowder and soap and...jelly donuts?  I inhale his scent deeply and tighten my grip even more.

"Thanks, Insurance Girl."  His voice is kind and sincere, not mocking or condescending in the least.  He's actually thanking me.  I _was able to give him peace last night.  It was worth the trespass.  _

Before I can respond, he's gone and out the door, as if it never happened.  Without words, we agreed never to speak of this again.  It's our secret, and right now I'm thinking that secrets can be pretty damn good.  In this moment I realize that I _do_ love him.  This is something I'll have to think deeply on.  But right now confessing my love is the least of my concerns.  I have a bus to catch!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fini.  Nice and short and sweet.  According to my beta-reader, EarFestishGirl, it's in character, but I'll let you be the judge.  Either way, I enjoyed writing it, so I don't really care.  Please review!

(Spike walks in)

Spike: Hey, when are you going to start paying attention to me again?  My corner of the closet's getting dusty.

Sagan Fox: When I feel like it.  Now get back in the Bishie Closet like a good boy and wait for me to come get you.  (Evil grin)

Vash:  (enters the room in only a towel) Hey, Sagan babe, when are you coming back to bed?  It's cold, and Wolfwood is starting to get bored without you.

Sagan Fox: (blushes bright red and shoves Spike out the door) You saw _nothing, Spike Spiegel!  (Sighs and composes self)  Coming, Vash! _

Vash: (Picks her up and carries her away) Not yet you aren't...


End file.
